


A Slytherin Thing to Do

by Brennah_K



Series: Slytherin Innocence. [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: OOC!Harry., Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-19
Updated: 2011-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a reason that the sorting hat almost put Harry in the Slytherin House, and when Dumbledore calls Harry's name as one of the Champions for the Triwizard Tournament, that reason makes itself apparent to a set of discerning eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slytherin Thing to Do

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted at FF.net

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore's voice rang through the Great Hall with a touch of false consternation, so slight Harry imagined he might be the only one who heard it as the elderly wizard's eyes settle on him with a gaze, equally false in its discomfort.

Despite the shocked hisses and gasps that echoed around the room, as hostile eyes turned toward him, Harry wasn't surprised.

From the moment he'd seen the flames of the Goblet of Fire flicker and sputter oddly, he'd known, instantly, what was going to happen, and had slapped together the quickest escape he could devise.

"No!"

"Harry..." Dumbledore's eyes flickered, showing the first true glimpse of surprise.

"No, I won't do it. I won't be in your stupid tournament! I won't!" Harry stamped his foot for effect, mimicking his cousin Dudley.

"You can't make me! I'll leave school first. My aunt and uncle don't even want me to come here anyways." He let his voice rise to a petulant shriek, drowning out the shocked gasps of class mates and visitors, surprised at his not only his behavior and claim that his relatives wouldn't want him to attend such a prestigious school, but at his rejection of the opportunity that most, who knew him only by his much exploited reputation, would have been certain he'd have craved.

"Harry, come forward." Dumbledore ordered sternly, the first sparkle of true ire flickering in his eyes.

Harry knew he was on slippery grounds playing too spoiled, but with such important guests and Crouch from the ministry present, the Headmaster wouldn't be able to just stun him and drag him along – then force him into the tournament.

"Only if you say I don't have to-" He whinged loudly for the entire audience to hear, hurrying into his next comment as he noticed the Headmaster's hand slipping toward his wand, "This isn't even about saving someone's life."

He let his voice waver and crack randomly as he continued:

"It's just a stupid cup."

"It's not like Ginny being dragged down to the chamber ..."

"or like Ron pulled into the shrieking shack again..."

...

"They could have been killed if I didn't do something!"

...

"This..."

"This.. is"

"It's...

"Just...just... a stupid cup!"

...

"Harry Potter! Calm yourself and come with us. We will discuss this - in my offices!" Dumbledore ordered firmly; his eyes flashed warnings at Harry.

Knowing that he was risking overplaying his hand, Harry - nevertheless - shook his head backing away, as if afraid that the Headmaster would physically chase after him.

He dropped his voice, attempting a pitiful puppy-dog gaze, as he added a seemingly distraught note, "Please don't make me. I don't need to be famous. Everyone already knows who I am."

Dumbledore seemed dumbstruck by his pleading, so Harry continued:

"I don't need glory! Everyone already taunts me with the fame and glory of being the boy who lived because I supposedly killed Voldemort, but you said it was only because Mum gave her life for me, but they act as if it's so great... as if I wouldn't trade all of it – just to get my mum and dad back. I don't need it. Please..."

"Harry!" The Headmaster's tone lost it's typical paternal humor, "Come here this instant. Your behavior is quite unseemly. We will discuss this in my offices."

Knowing, from long experience, when to give up and play the part of the chastised child, Harry dropped his head, letting his hair fall into his face as he slouched and shuffled forward with blatant reluctance. His act had been at least partially successful, though; Harry felt little touches and brushes of sympathy as he passed and heard discontented grumbling from students and guests alike.

"Headmaster Dumbly-dore," the Beauxbaton Headmistress's voice carried gently through the room, "It is clear that he should not be forced to participate, especially as he does not possess the maturity to face the risks that would have been asked of him, or the desire to do so."

Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster, nodded fiercely, adding, "Poor work, this, Albus. You should have secured the boy's cooperation before trying to gain an unfair advantage."

"Madam Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, it would be more appropriate to address this in my offices," Dumbledore began, but quickly left off when the level of discontented grumblings rose almost three-fold.

Harry had reached the other Triwizard Champions, who had been waiting to be escorted to their celebratory dinner with the Headmasters, and unexpectedly, one of the factors that he usually hated to be reminded of, actually worked in his favor. His unusually small stature for his age (thanks to his Aunt's neglect), gave him an even more child-like and defenseless appearance when he didn't even reach Fleur Delacour's shoulder. He was practically dwarfed by Krum, both in height and build, while Diggory was similar enough in features, thought not in height, that he might have been mistaken for a particularly young father to Harry.

Harry didn't break his act, though, to look up, but crossed his arms like a sulky child, and muttered defensively to himself, just barely loud enough for the others to hear. "I don't care what he says; I'm not going to do it. I'll run away if I have to."

"Petite Monsieur, do not worry. It zhould not come to zat. Ze adults will zurely not press thees." Fleur murmured as she knelt beside him and brushed his hair to the side in a soothing gesture.

"She's right sport. There's no need to throw a wobbler, Headmaster Dumbledore will sort this out." Cedric Diggory dropped his hand on Harry's shoulder in a firm genial pat.

"Yes. Do not Vorry. Provessor Karkarov vill not allow anyvone to steal de upperhand vrom him." Victor Krum's hand fell a bit more heavily on the top of Harry's head, but in a friendly gesture that Harry was sure had been meant to reassure him. He murmured a fervent thanks that he truly meant for more than one reason, but kept his head down.

"Sadly, I'm afraid that it may very well be out of our hands," Dumbledore asserted in a frustrated tone that Harry sensed was all too real.

"Entry into the Triwizard Tournament forms a binding magical contract, and the goblet's magical fire would have destroy any traces of whomever might have placed his name in the cup. Isn't that correct, Barty?"

The formally dressed Ministry official, who'd been standing in the shadows as much as possible to escape notice, finally, reluctantly, stepped forward and studied the hall gauging the expressions of both their international guests and the audience. Almost three full minutes passed, before Crouch threw his arms out in an overly melo-dramatic gesture, stepped forward. and cleared his throat for attention, silencing the entire hall.

"To preserve the integrity of the Tri-wizard Tournament and the selection of its champions, I must order an injunction on the tournament until a full inquiry may be held." His anxious expression immediately lightened as a majority of the students erupted in a supportive cheer that almost drowned out the headmaster's response.

"Bartimous!" Headmaster Dumbledore protested.

"I'm sorry, Albus. I am afraid that is my final decision. Now, perhaps, it would be wise to send Mr. Potter to the infirmary. The young man seemed quite overwrought."

"Yes, well... Yes." Dumbledore conceded glancing around the room until his eyes rested on the Potion Master.

With a small smirk, Dumbledore vented a little of his frustration, with a return to his grandfatherly tone, "Severus, could you please escort Mr. Potter to the infirmary and administer any calming or other potions you may feel are warranted by the situation."

"Certainly, Headmaster." Snape answered in an amused tone, "It would be my pleasure. Mr. Potter..."

As Harry stepped away from the other Tri-Wizard Champions, amidst a new wave of hostile grumbling directed at the Headmaster, he heard Diggory explaining to Krum, "Snape hates Harry."

Pausing a step for effect, and to give them something to think about and pass along, Harry commented softly, "At least, he's honest about it."

After a moment, Harry thought he could almost feel Krum's intense gaze leave him and thought it might have settled on the Headmaster from a sudden shift in the elderly wizard's posture.

"I see." Krum responded, and Harry thought he did, and that they all would, maybe, by morning, anyone they spoke with, would as well.

"Mr. Potter..." Snape prompted in a slightly impatient tone that nevertheless startled Harry for the note of mild amusement he thought he heard in the Potion Master's voice.

"Yes, Sir." Harry followed the Potion Master out of the Great Hall, dragging his feet but without a fuss – not wanting to blow the impression he might have left on the visiting guests and officials.

When the doors closed behind them, however, he stopped in shock as the Potion Master began chuckling. He had expected a strong reaction, but not that.

Turning to face Snape, Harry was completely undone watching Snape chuckle even harder at the sight of his stunned reaction. How was he supposed to handle that?

After a moment though, just when he was about to turn on his heels and stalk up the stairs to the infirmary, Snape stopped him with a very gentle grip on his shoulder and raised a hand to fend off his insulted and perhaps insulting question.

"Despite your outward appearance, Mr. Potter, it seems that you may have retained at least a small amount of your mother's cunning; although, I suspect that she would never have stooped to portray herself as an infantile, pouting brat. Still, it was a very Slytherin thing to do, and I believe … effective."

"Uhhh... er..." Harry shifted from foot to foot, trying to decide how to answer his professor's double-edged compliment. "Thanks, I guess."

"Oh, don't revert to dullard habits of your father, just yet. Having overheard the comments you made when you joined your fellow 'champions' – heh, champions indeed – I suspect that you intend to reinforce your unwillingness by a token escape."

The professor paused studying Harry's face for several seconds, even as Harry tried to hide his shock at having his plans so easily seen through. After a moment, though, instead of berating him, Snape chuckled again.

"If that is your intent, I should warn you that I will be patrolling the entrances all evening while Headmaster Dumbledore, the other Headmaster's, and Crouch hold their meetings. If I catch you out after hours, I will feel it my duty to drag you before them and make them further aware of your immaturity and unsuitability as a chosen champion. Do you understand me?"

Beginning to grin slightly Harry nodded and answered respectfully, "Yes, Sir."

"Go then." He shooed Harry away, but called after him quietly, "As I said, it was a very Slytherin thing to do, but Potter, you should be aware that the headmaster does not look favorably on Slytherins, not even Slytherins in Gryffindor robes."


End file.
